Fever
by 4753256386
Summary: "… Are these headaches… normal for you?" "No, they aren't." Sequel to Chase. Black Ice, Jack/Pitch, oneshot


**I never thought I would write for Black Ice again but here I am, super inspired by it.**

 **I don't really have any direction for these oneshots lol...**

 **Will include allusions to the Guardians of Childhood books.**

* * *

A deep sigh escaped the nightmare king – or rather, _former_ nightmare king as he didn't feel he had much right to call himself that anymore – as he reclined in his chair, staring grimly out at the dull scenery. The pale grey light streamed down into his hideout lazily. It seemed almost too bright for him now, the empty shadows not doing much to block it out.

A ghastly coloured hand rested on his forehead, fingers pushing at the skin in agitation. There seemed to be a constant pressure behind his eyes, and it had been there for weeks now, steadily building, but he couldn't place why. Not only that, but the surrounding air felt hot, sweltering even, to the point where it was uncomfortable even to him.

Could spirits get sick?

No, he thought, that was ridiculous. But perhaps it would explain why the light seemed to be bothering him more than usual.

He felt something pass through the barrier of his lair and he groaned to himself. Already he knew what was coming. He could already hear the clack of wood hooking onto stone and the soft rush of wind as it moved through the tunnels.

Pitch wanted to sink into the chair and vanish. It may have been his apparent plight talking but he was really just _not in the mood_ for the winter spirit's shenanigans today. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard the unmistakable whooping of the teen. Seconds later, Jack appeared at the gap in the crumbling room he was currently residing in. He stepped through the threshold, as unperturbed as ever. It made Pitch want to throttle him.

Let him stay the night _once_ and suddenly he thought himself entitled to visit all the _time._

"Hey, Pitch-" Jack started, but halted once the other spirit fixed him with a glower. "Whoa, what's with that look?"

"Headache, I suppose," Pitch replied dryly. "... Your presence isn't helping much."

He hoped the other would get the idea and leave, but many days of the guardian's (unwanted) company had taught him that hoping was futile.

A boyish grin broke out over Jack's face and he raised his hands, apologetic.

"No snowballs this time, I promise."

Pitch made a snort of acknowledgement. Yes, that hadn't been one of the boy's better ideas. He didn't much like being pelted with the guardian of fun's snowballs; they didn't seem to have the effect on him that Jack thought they would.

Jack began to pace, drumming his staff on the floor absentmindedly, glancing about the room with an air of intrigue. It seemed to be in his nature to explore and _intrude._ Pitch's eyes followed him, the nightmare king displeased but also... a bit curious himself.

"… I really don't understand you." He finally said after a few moments of silence had passed.

Jack turned his attention back to him. "What's there not to understand?"

"Why you're so…" his lips curled around the words he was about to say, " _friendly,_ so _nice,_ so _comfortable_ around me, dare I say it."

Jack exhaled with exasperation, but he didn't actually sound all that annoyed. He seemed more bemused than anything, like he couldn't believe Pitch hadn't stopped pushing him away yet.

"Come on, we've been over this before. I'm not out to get you, I have no ulterior motives or whatever." Jack rolled his eyes and rested his staff on his shoulder. "And here I was thinking we'd made some progress…"

The nightmare king bristled and the energy in the room abruptly shifted. Jack himself must have felt it because he looked at the other spirit in surprise, as though he knew he'd just said something very wrong.

" _Progress?_ " Pitch repeated quietly, but the venom in his voice was unmistakable. Forgetting his headache, forgetting the weakness he felt, he pushed himself up off of the armchair, shoulders raised in animosity.

"Am I some _project_ to you, Frost? An activity you occupy yourself with when you're _bored?_ "

Jack sputtered for a moment, struggling to catch himself.

"Okay, I did not mean it like-"

Pitch advanced on him, and for a moment he picked up something out of the ordinary - a trace of anxiety from the spirit before him – but he was too angry to acknowledge it at the moment.

"I don't give a _damn_ what you meant it like. The sentiment is the same." He snarled and suddenly tore his blistering gaze away from the boy, the pain in his head fighting back against him, not wanting to be forgotten. He didn't want to let the full extent of his vulnerability known. "I don't see why you can't seem to get it through that thick skull of yours. _I'm not your friend_ , Jack. I don't want whatever it is you're trying to force between us. I'm not some sad misunderstood creature waiting for redemption."

A humourless laugh abruptly burst forth, a hollow sound that echoed off the walls and only died somewhere far off in his lair. He forced himself to look back at the other spirit, his headache becoming a constant buzz in his mind that he pointedly ignored.

"Oh, is that it? You think you can change me with all this pestering you're doing?"

Jack didn't answer. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, his eyes never leaving the boogeyman's face.

"In case you'd forgotten, I nearly wiped out that throng of nuisances you call guardians. I was entirely prepared to snuff out the last light and plunge this infernal world into an era of darkness and fear. I really didn't think you'd be so _forgiving_ of that considering your attachment to the Bennett boy, but here we are."

The winter spirit only continued to watch him as he ranted, something stirring in his expression at the mention of Jamie. He frowned and looked at the floor, which Pitch took some sense of satisfaction in as he stalked up to him.

"So why? Why do you persist so much?"

Jack sighed, shifting his staff off of his shoulder and letting the top of the loop rest on the floor. A few tendrils of frost began to idly crawl along the ground from the point where the wood met stone.

"Like I said, I'm… curious." He replied without looking up at Pitch. The nightmare king narrowed his eyes in return.

"Curious to see how far you can push me?"

Jack finally raised his head, connecting their gazes once more. He seemed more resolute now.

"Toothiana said we were all someone before we were guardians. I'm just wondering…"

Pitch felt a twinge of something in the back of his mind, but he forced it down and scoffed.

"In case you hadn't noticed, _I'm not a guardian._ " He withdrew slightly, resisting the urge to cradle his head in his hands. The pain was flaring up again. "I don't know what answers you're looking for. I wasn't anyone before I was Pitch Black."

"I thought the same, but then I uncovered my past and found out that my life didn't begin with me waking up in a frozen lake." Jack persisted, gesturing to the other spirit. "I just thought…"

Pitch bared his teeth and wandered back over to the armchair. He didn't sit back down but he did lean his hands on it for support. By the stars, what was with this migraine?

"You're wasting your time." He ground out.

Jack, surprisingly, raised his voice, looking genuinely frustrated now. He wasn't playing around anymore. With any luck, he really would take Pitch seriously and figure out what he was doing was all for naught.

 _"Why are you so opposed to me helping you?!"_

 _"I never asked for it!"_

Pitch rounded on him once more, breathing hard. "Again, I'm not your project and I don't appreciate being interrogated! Why can't you _leave me be?"_

Jack was staring at him. He looked thoughtful, and more so _pitying_. Great, he was likely getting more ideas about how to annoy him.

"It's painful isn't it…?" The winter spirit said after the short pause. "Trying to remember…"

The boogeyman threw his hands up, aggravated beyond belief. He slammed his hands back down on the chair and threw Jack a scathing look.

"What's painful is this incessant headache and you continuing to-" he cut himself off as something occurred to him. A downright wicked smirk eclipsed his face and he began to quietly chuckle to himself, much to the confusion of the winter spirit.

"Oh ho ho, now I think I have some idea of what you're doing, what all these useless endeavours are for."

Jack looked at him like he'd grown a second head, but underneath that was unease. Pitch could _sense_ it, and it was more than welcome after all the bravado he'd displayed thus far. "Huh?"

The nightmare king only laughed again, the change in his demeanour clearly putting the other off. Good, it only meant it would be that much more easier to take control back from him. The boy thought him weak and powerless but he was going to prove he could still _hurt._

"You may have sought me out because you thought I was lonely, but it's _you_ who's afraid of being alone again." Pitch said. He saw a flicker of recognition in Jack's blue eyes and he smiled. _Got you._

"And so you're latching onto the closest thing possible… or rather, the only other being capable of understanding what you've gone through." He stepped away from the chair and pretended to look contemplative. "So that's why you've been such a clingy mess lately…"

Jack looked positively indignant at that and he knew he'd hit the nail right on the head.

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" The guardian of fun rushed to his own defence, but he looked unsure of himself. "I have friends now, I have the guardians, I have the belief of children."

Pitch examined his nails casually. "Keep talking, I'm sure you'll convince yourself eventually."

"What are you going on about?"

The boogeyman shrugged, relishing how Jack's nerves were beginning to radiate off of him. Oh how the tables had turned.

"Sure you have friends. I wouldn't doubt that the guardians are great company. I'm sure they find time for you in between their respective duties. Yes?"

The young guardian's eyes widened, his expression falling.

"That's…"

Pitch continued, not letting him get a word in. "And the children… You still don't have as much belief as the other four, do you? A sliver if you're lucky, I'd imagine. A good start for a new guardian… but children come and go. In ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred years maybe, will your 'snow days' and 'snowball fights' sustain their faith for that long? From generation to generation?"

It seemed easier to ignore the pain now as he spoke, clasping his hands together behind his back. He inhaled deeply, satisfied by the way Jack appeared to realize he was in way over his head.

"How long until you wind up back at the bottom, I wonder… invisible to all, not a soul uttering the name of Jack Frost outside of recounting a baseless myth…"

The winter spirit's stare hardened and he clutched his staff harder, flipping it upright so the bottom end rested on the ground now.

"I know what you're doing and it won't work."

"But it already has." Pitch took a languid step towards him. "Don't you remember? People's greatest fears… I always know them, and my, yours has changed, but it hasn't changed all that much…"

He saw panic flit across the boy's face then and he knew he was remembering when Pitch had tormented him down here, herding him through the maze of corridors and taunting him with what he knew Jack wanted. It was only there for a moment but it was enough for the hold of terror to sink into him and that was all the boogeyman needed. Maybe now Jack would see what a mistake he'd made in underestimating him, treating him like some _joke_...

"Stop it." Jack's voice rang out, unsteady, as the darker spirit approached him. He took his staff in both hands now. "Pitch, stay away from me."

But Pitch didn't. He was reaching out and seizing whatever he could find of the guardian's; uncertainty, anxiety, anything that would let him root his hold. Jack's spiralling emotions were like finding water in the hot desert, and he was _parched._

"Aww, what's the matter, Jack? I thought you wanted to be _friends._ " Pitch taunted, his voice smooth. He drew closer still despite the clear threat the guardian of fun was presenting. It didn't matter if Jack _did_ attack him; it would only ruin all of his gestures of 'kindness' towards him and then perhaps then he would finally leave him alone.

But Jack didn't move. He was apparently fixed on the spot, his jaw set. He didn't even flinch as Pitch brought his hand towards him, resting it on his shoulder. The boogeyman kept it in place even as he moved behind the younger spirit, bringing his other hand up. He grasped both shoulders now, fingers lightly digging into the blue material of the hoodie the other wore.

Jack lowered his staff, his arms dropping to his sides in what looked like defeat. Pitch eyed him for a moment before he leaned in towards his ear, speaking very softly.

"It's intoxicating you know, the fear you're giving off. Time has not been kind indeed…" He sighed almost longingly, his grip tightening for a moment. "If only it were fear for _me_ and not spawned out of your ridiculous melodrama – that would _really_ feed my power – but it's delicious all the same. And, at this point, I'll take what I can get."

Jack's head fell forward a bit. The nightmare king wondered what he was thinking, what more he could say to him now to offset him even more. It seemed what he'd done had been effective enough. The guardian's shoulders began to shake. Pitch frowned because _sadness_ was not what he was after, but then his golden-silver eyes narrowed as he realized that something was off.

And then he heard it, the sound that shattered all of his concentration. Whatever influence he had broke and the traces of fear he so desperately clung to slipped through his fingertips.

Jack was _laughing._

It wasn't a broken, hysterical sound either. It was _genuine_. The winter spirit chortled as Pitch shoved himself away, looking vaguely disgusted as he backed towards his chair again, eyeing the other warily. All at once the pain he was keeping at bay with what little power he'd gained from the boy's momentary lapse came rushing back, hitting him like a freight train. He pressed a hand to his forehead and struggled to stay upright.

"Have you _lost_ your _mind?_ " He questioned incredulously. It seemed this day could only get worse.

Jack's chuckles died away slowly as he sobered. He drew himself up again, fixing Pitch with a more serious look.

"You're right." He seemed to realize how that sounded and then he shook his head, correcting himself quickly. "Not... about me losing my mind, though that's debatable, but the me... being afraid thing."

Pitch just stared at him.

"Look, I am afraid, of all that you said. You already knew that, didn't you?" Jack paused, letting out a breath. "But so what? So what if I am reaching out to you because of that?"

The nightmare king was at a loss for words so the boy simply continued speaking.

"You really haven't been listening to me, Pitch. I understand the loneliness and that's _why_ I've been so persistent. Maybe I was being selfish as well but…"

He trailed off into a silence that consumed the room for several long moments. And then Pitch slowly sunk back into his armchair and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Between the agony in his head and the unpredictability of this entire exchange, he really didn't know what to say.

"God, you really are pathetic." Pitch moaned, then pointed somewhere behind Jack. If only the pain would end... "Humour me for a few more minutes and cower against that wall, will you?"

The other spirit looked over his shoulder at the spot he was pointing to and then back at Pitch, smirking.

"Why? That tickle your fancy?"

The nightmare king threw him a dry, half-lidded glare.

"You're really not going to quit with this, are you?"

"Nope." Jack answered simply. Pitch merely groaned and dropped his head in his hands. He couldn't be bothered with the winter spirit anymore. To hell with him. It was becoming maddening, the thunder in his head, like something wanted to break free.

When Pitch didn't reply, Jack's teasing expression morphed to one of concern. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he paced towards the darker spirit.

"… Are these headaches… normal for you?"

"No, they aren't." Pitch answered miserably. He then spoke quieter, addressing more himself than the other presence in the room. "Feels like something's trying to split my skull in two…"

He pushed himself up suddenly, turning to the guardian of fun.

"You need to leave now, Frost. You've overstayed your…"

It happened then, like his mind had caved. The agony was unbearable, shattering his consciousness into nothing but white light. The room had vanished. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear anything but the sound of someone calling his name and the clatter of wood hitting stone. But then darkness fell again all too quickly, dimming his senses and plunging him into oblivion.

* * *

The world spun back into focus slowly. The nightmare king was aware of nothing but his own breathing at first, but then the room returned to him, the broken ceiling above, the hazy grey light streaming in, a flicker of white at the corner of his vision...

He blinked awake, feeling the hard stone beneath his palms and his backside. His head on the other hand was resting on something much softer. There was a pressure at his forehead, but with it brought a pleasant coldness to contrast the sweltering heat that seemed to consume the rest of him.

His eyelids drooped shut again. He still felt so _weak_ , and he had no recollection of what had just happened and _why._

"You're awake."

A low groan built in his throat. The brat _still_ hadn't left? He didn't want to talk to him, or face him now because of _this_.

"Unfortunately…" he breathed in response. He opened his eyes again, spotting Jack above him, upside down from his view. What was he... oh.

He realized the softness his head rested on was the boy's legs, and that Jack's hand was the pressure at his forehead. As if this entire situation couldn't get more humiliating. At least his head wasn't trying to kill him anymore, though there was no telling if that pain would return or not.

"Don't tell me you've been tending to me like I'm some maiden in full swoon..." he bit out sourly. It did feel nice though, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"I wasn't just going to leave you like this. You fainted."

Pitch rolled his eyes. He'd worked that out by now and he didn't want to be reminded of the fact.

"You don't say."

Jack removed his hand for a second, retracting the coldness for a moment. Pitch almost snapped at him to return it but managed to catch himself. It didn't matter anyway, The winter spirit placed his hand back where it had been and the nightmare king had to resist the urge to sigh in relief.

"You're... still burning as well. I'm no expert but that's not normal for a human, much less a spirit. Can we even get sick?" Jack looked up for a second, contemplating his own question. Pitch snorted, he'd asked himself the same thing earlier that day.

"Not only that but you were tossing and mumbling in your sleep. You weren't out for very long but..."

That made Pitch stop, a troubled expression coming over his features. He immediately tried to push himself up, but he found himself too weak to do so and merely accepted his fate.

"Easy." Jack cautioned. The nightmare king wanted to growl at him but he was pondering over something else.

The fact that he'd fainted due to a splitting headache was alarming in itself, but apparently having a nightmare while he was out? He didn't get nightmares, but from what Jack was describing it sounded like he did have one. He didn't remember it either, though it felt like he _should_ have...

"Did I… say anything?" Pitch asked.

"I didn't catch much, but there was something… a name, I think." Jack said. "Seraphina."

The darker spirit sat up soundlessly, causing the guardian to let out a sound of surprise. Pitch didn't care, not about Jack nor the weakness he felt. That word had struck something within him, but it had gone away within a few moments, leaving him with nothing but a dull, desolate emptiness.

"Seraphina…" He repeated softly, barely audible to even himself. Jack was standing up next to him, offering him his hand. Pitch hesitated for a moment before he took it and allowed the winter spirit to help him to his feet. He wasn't really thinking about anything he was doing, nothing mattered but the name... the name of his...

"Does it sound familiar?"

The boogeyman snapped out of his trance and looked at Jack in annoyance, before his face fell again. "I… don't know. Perhaps it is worth looking into…"

The guardian of fun looked expectant at that.

"I did not say _with you_ , brat."

Jack made a look that could only be described as _pouting._ Pitch rolled his eyes again and sighed.

"Besides, this... 'remembering who you were before becoming a guardian' nonsense, it doesn't apply to me. I have no way of uncovering any... buried memories."

But the other spirit already seemed to have an answer for this.

"Your teeth!"

Pitch cocked his head at him. "What?"

Jack kicked his staff up, which had been resting on the ground next to him, and caught it, resting it on his shoulder. "That was how I remembered. Tooth has everyone's teeth, she must have yours too."

Oh, _that_ was Jack's idea. He concealed any disappointment he might have shown. The nightmare king put a hand to his head. His feverish symptoms seemed to be diminishing at least.

"Yes, wouldn't that be convenient." He said. "But no, she doesn't. I'm far older than she is and, from my understanding, her speciality lies with _human children_ , of which I never was either. At least from what I know."

Pitch threw the other spirit a tired look.

"Are we done for today, Jack?"

The guardian of fun seemed a bit deflated from his idea being shot down so quickly, but he also could see that the other had likely had enough for the time being. Or so Pitch hoped.

"I'll see... what else I can do then." Jack said. He padded back over to the gap in the wall, resting one hand on the stone and looking back at Pitch. "I haven't given up."

With that, he was gone, the swish of wind announcing his departure from the lair. The nightmare king merely stood in the same spot for a long moment, contemplating. Contemplating Jack, contemplating his bizarre condition, contemplating his shadows...

And then he turned away and glided down a dark passage, but not before one last glance towards the light streaming in through the wall behind him.

"I know you haven't."

* * *

 **I do like the name Seraphina more than Emily so I used that instead.**

 **R &R**


End file.
